Echoes
by Polly
Summary: Peter's dreams start leading him into a disturbing new reality where the line between nightmares and experience is blurred. AU story, set in 'Fourteen Days-verse' - UPDATED
1. Chapter 1

Echoes – Chapter 1

Standard disclaimer applies:

Summary:

_Peter's dreams start leading him into a disturbing new reality where the line between nightmares and experience is blurred and faith must be placed in those we love, to keep us from losing our way completely._

A/N

AU – this is set in the _Fourteen Days_ universe and it really won't make much sense to you if you've not at least skimmed the story or read the summary. Obviously, if you'd like to enjoy it without, then you're welcome to have a go.

Thank you very much to all those who followed _Fourteen Days_ and who sent encouragement to keep going with this storyline, particularly MikiNare, Sarah of Earth and Swordy. This one's going to be a longer venture and more angsty than the shorter fics, like _The Queue_. I'll try to get chapters out as quickly as I can but I can't promise. Please let me know what you think of this opening – all comments very gratefully received.

* * *

_The water was warm, temperate and still. Still as millpond, though the expanse of water was infinite. It stretched on as far as the eye could see - an endless ocean of peaceful, multihued colours dancing across the water's surface, following the intricate rise and fall of the gentle ripples. The scene was tranquil, it exuded a timeless sensation of peace, a moment where the world stopped. As he stood in the centre of the water, he knew that he could stay there forever. He would never get tired, he would never flounder: he would always stand. Despite being in the middle of the ocean, the water would never overcome him and the young man instinctively knew and understood this. _

_Occasionally, when he lifted his feet from the water and bent his knees, the exhilaration of floating coursed through him. The young man felt himself cocooned in the comforting safety of buoyancy and a smile spread across his lips. He allowed himself to sink down into the water so that it rose to his neck and let himself be carried. His arms spread out at his sides, rhythmically pushing and pulling against the waves. _

_Then he would tip his head back and rest it against the water, closing his eyes as the waves lapped back and forth against around his ears, his hair fanning out a little into the water, at the base of his neck. He would stay here, Peter decided, until they came for him again – until they made him leave. _

_**Peter.**_

_He didn't open his eyes. Whoever was calling him, couldn't enter without his permission and he didn't want to leave yet._

_**Peter!**_

_The voice was more insistent now, urging him away with an edge of caution lacing the word. Peter knew the voice and he dimly acknowledged that fact._

_**Peter!!**_

"…Petrelli, if you wouldn't mind re-joining the rest of us?"

He woke with a start, eyes shooting open and, for a moment, darting around him, desperately seeking out his surroundings as the young man fought to control the sensation of panic. Quickly, he took in his environment, processed and assessed it then straightened, immediately, in his chair. He was still in his group therapy session, seated on a chair in part of a large circle as the afternoon sun shone through the large, airy casements.

Glancing to the side of him sat his friend, Anthony, staring at him with a meaningful, apologetic expression. Peter could read it well, without words: _I tried to tell you_, it said. He smiled at him and nodded encouragingly:

_Thanks, man_ – his eyes returned – _don't worry about it_. And Anthony smiled back and returned his stare to the centre of the circle, his eyes once again blanking.

Above him stood his doctor, a man named Morris, his expression a mixture of annoyance and concern. The man's brow was creased with blossoming signs of anger but his eyes still shone with underlying worry. This was still a patient, after all.

"Sorry," Peter mumbled, not particularly meaning it nor caring if the doctor believed him. Doctor Morris sighed and shook his head.

"We'll talk later," he muttered, too aware of the rapid passing of time.

His sessions never seemed to have enough time to reach any conclusions, he always felt and this particular patient proved continually difficult. It wasn't that he disliked him, but there was only so much he could take from young Mr. Petrelli. The boy was hardly ever _with them_, even when he was in the same room – even when he was _awake_, which was becoming less and less frequent. His answers to questions were usually curt, sometimes flippant or distracted and his apathy sent ripples across the group. No, Morris decided, no more time would be spent wasted on this patient during sessions.

With a reluctant sigh, Peter nodded and forced his vacillating thoughts to re-grasp the point of that afternoon's group session as the comforting images from his dream drifted further and further to the edges of his mind, eventually slipping away entirely.

* * *

The steady, precise ticking of the large metal clock on the wall was a reassuring presence in the oak-panelled office. Heavy curtains hanging over the windows gave off an oppressive sensation as they effectively blocked out the fading evening light. Piled high on the politician's desk were manila folders and dark grey box files filled with papers of varying importance. His desk lamp illuminated the space directly in front of his chair where an empty, stained mug sat next to a discarded copy of the day's paper and his PDA.

Since eight o'clock that morning, Nathan's day had not stopped. It wasn't that work was going badly, it was just intense. They had just reached the end of a gruelling case for the prosecution and the workload and stress that had accompanied it had been astronomical.

Add to that, the boys had left for a two-week's school camp that morning, only just discovering as they were headed out of the front door that they were missing Simon's travel bag. It had eventually appeared, after much frantic searching from Nathan, Heidi and Peter, stowed in the coat closet under the stairs. By that time, the school bus had left and Nathan had to navigate downtown traffic faster than he felt comfortable doing, to get his sons to the meeting point before the coach left, Monty crying in the backseat all the way there, convinced they were going to be left behind.

He had then started the morning late, Peter was late in to the Trinity Clinic and, to top it all off, Angela announced a family meeting for later that evening.

That had just been the beginning and by eight o'clock that evening, it hadn't slowed down yet. Nathan barely had a moment to turn his attention to one task before another one sprung out in front of him, demanding his immediate attention there and then. He felt the distinct, overwhelmingly tempting urge to give in to the primal scream that was building at the back of his throat – to say _to hell_ with what the world thought of the great, unflappable Nathan Petrelli.

To the elder Petrelli, it felt like juggling sticks of fire, each one too hot to hold on to for long, but dreading the catastrophic effects that could ensue if he were to drop even one of them.

People and places seemed to move in a whirlwind of blurred sounds and images around him and for such an immovable man it was truly amazing how Nathan moved himself with it, bending and turning as a reed in a storm.

He moved swiftly from his office, cell phone to his ear and a file held in his hands. "Yeah, I know," he snapped into his phone. "Just tell Marcus to fax them through to my office…I'll sign them here and send them on in the morning…well it will just _have_ to do – hold on, Tim, there's someone on the other line." Nathan rounded the corner and started heading towards the staircase as he pressed the button to connect him to the second line. "Hello?"

"Nathan." Heidi crossed his path, making her way from the family room and towards the kitchens. "Don't forget your mother's going to be here any minute." Seeing him on the phone, she raised her hands in a silent apology and exchanged a brief smile with him as he nodded his confirmation.

Nathan directed his attention to his second caller. "Could you hold on one moment? Yes, thanks." Then he turned back to his wife. "Honey, could you check how chef's doing with dinner and entertain my mother for a few minutes?" He understood the reasons behind the look his wife shot him and sent her an apologetic, entreating look. She couldn't resist his endearing expression and he was banking on that to save him now. "Just for a few minutes," he pleaded.

"Fine," she acquiesced, gracing him with a benevolent smile. "But you owe me for this."

He grinned at her. "Always." Heidi shook her head, fondly, and wheeled herself off to the kitchen, leaving him to bring the phone to his ear again.

"Sorry about that. Can I help?" The voice on the other end of the line appeared less than impressed though too polite to say otherwise.

"Mr. Petrelli? This is Doctor Philips from the Trinity Clinic." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment as he felt his nerves notch up a level. He could almost _feel_ his blood pressure rising.

"Hi," he greeted the man, steeling himself for the worst.

"Mr. Petrelli, I'm sorry to disturb you in the evening but I feel we must have a talk about Peter before he comes in tomorrow." Wincing, Nathan looked up to see the back of his little brother heading down the stairs and towards the front door.

"Peter!" he yelled before turning back to his call for a moment. "Hold on a second. PETER!" The figure did not reappear. Cursing silently, Nathan began to jog after the retreating form. "Sorry about that, Dr. Philips," he said as he moved. "What's he done?" Nathan listened for a moment longer. "He's _what_? Well no, I didn't know about this. It happens a lot?" He groaned. "Um, I'm sorry. Could you hold on a moment?"

"Mandy?" he yelled. Promptly, a maid appeared from one of the rooms off to the side of the hallway, piles of old newspapers set for recycling, balanced across her hands. "Can you get my brother back here now, please? She nodded and scuttled off as best she could under the weight of newspapers, just as the sound of the front door opening and closing resounded through the hall way.

"Is that Peter leaving?" Nathan called out, to no one in particular.

"No sir," the boys' nanny replied having just come down the stairs. "It was your mother arriving." Nathan winced and held back a deep sigh. "Would you mind getting my wife, please?" She nodded and headed off, intent on taking her own two-week leave as soon as possible.

"Dr. Philips?" he asked, into the phone. "Yes. I'm very sorry about Peter and about all of this…yes…could you just hold on for one moment?" He barely allowed the man to reply as he hit the button to the other line. "Tim? Yeah, something's come up…you _have_ the number, look it up – for God's sake, what am I paying you for? No, I need you to deal with that…Look, I have to go. I'll be in touch tomorrow." With a sigh of relief, Nathan ended one conversation and turned his focus back to the increasingly irate Dr. Philips.

"Dr. Philips? Yes, I'm sorry about this." The man on the other end of the line was obviously struggling to maintain his professionalism.

"As I was saying, Mr. Petrelli, Peter has been falling asleep with alarming regularity in sessions. I was wondering if his sleeping habits needed to be addressed at home to ensure he gets as much out of his therapy as possible." Nathan was puzzled.

"I don't know what to suggest, Dr. Philips. He gets enough sleep – he doesn't stay out all night. But I promise I'll look in to it."

The sweeping arrival of Angela Petrelli pulled him up short. She smiled, perfectly at him. "Nathan," she greeted him where he still stood in the hallway. He smiled, tightly at her.

"Ma," he returned. "Hold on a second, Dr. Philips."

"Dr. Philips? From the Clinic?" Angela asked, innocently with one eyebrow arched. "Problems, Nathan?"

He laughed, eyes desperately scanning the area for his wife. "Course not, Ma. Have you seen Heidi?"

She gave him an odd look. "No, dear. Should I have?" At that moment, however, he saw his wife approaching from behind his mother, an apology written all over her face. _Sorry_, he saw her mouth.

"Angela," the young, raven-haired woman greeted as she drew near. Angela turned to her, the picture of contained, graceful amusement. "I'm glad you're here. I was wondering if I could steal you for a moment to give me your opinion on these fabric swatches for the new curtains in the drawing room. I just can't get the combinations right to give off the right impression to visitors."

Not much got past Angela Petrelli and this was not going to be one of them. "Indeed, dear," she remarked. However, she could see the need to give her eldest son some space and so allowed herself to be led into the family room, a slight, amused smile on her face.

Nathan watched her retreating form, immensely relieved. "PETER!" he yelled once more. Again, no brother seemed to be emerging. If he hadn't headed out of the front door, Nathan pondered, he could have doubled back. A mansion like the Petrelli's had any number of back stairs and doorways through which one could slip, unnoticed. Peter had discovered all of them by the time he was three and put most of them to good use at some point or another, by the time he was five.

At that moment, Andre, their French chef appeared from the kitchens, spatula in hand and a look of irritation over his features.

"Mr. Petrelli?" he began. "If your brother is not joining you and your family for dinner, should I keep a plate aside for him? It is only that I have worked to include a meal to fully fulfil his particular nutritional needs and if he now has no need of it…"

But Nathan interrupted him, abruptly. "Hold on a second. He said _what_? Where is he?" Andre pointed towards one of the smaller side doors and Nathan quickly set off for it, calling back to his chef as he did so. "He _is_ going to be here for dinner, so there'll be no need to keep him a plate. Dr. Philips?" he asked, addressing his cell phone once again, "I'm very sorry about this."

He heard the man pause on the other end. "Is everything…_alright_, Mr. Petrelli?" the man asked, concern evident in his tone. Nathan brushed it off rather hastily.

"Absolutely," he insisted. "_Peter_!" He had finally spotted him, his hand on the door-handle in one of the smaller side-rooms, normally used for unloading groceries and other goods brought in through the service entrance. Peter stopped and turned to face him, a question in his eyes.

"What, Nate?" he asked. "I'm just on my way out for a bit." Nathan held up one finger to root him to the spot, his attention drawn back to Dr. Philips.

"Yes, Dr. Philips? Could we talk tomorrow?" At the mention of his doctor's name, Peter became visibly agitated, nervously shuffling from foot to foot in a bid to escape but still remained where he was for the time being.

"I'm afraid this can't wait," Philips insisted. "I have to be honest, Mr. Petrelli, Peter's lack of energy is only the latest concern we have. His attitude is apathetic at best and hostile at worst. It is becoming clear that Peter has no desire to be here and that he may be better suited to more conventional, one on one therapy in another practice. He's in sessions one day and then gone the next without any explanation from home." At this, Nathan's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Philips continued.

"We _do_ have a considerable waiting list for patients wanting a place here at the Clinic and if Peter continues to waste his own time and disrupt that of the other patients, I'll have no choice but to…"

"No!" Nathan interrupted, hastily, shooting Peter a deathly glare that made him retreat a step backwards. Whatever conversation his brother and doctor were having, it wasn't good. He watched his older brother very carefully, waiting for the man to make his move. Nathan crossed the room and snagged the boy's elbow, steering him to a wooden stool before depositing him on it with a low, growl of: "_Stay_ here and don't you even _think_ about moving." And though Peter sure as hell _thought_ about it, he wasn't foolish enough to do it.

Having assured himself that his brother was currently going no-where, Nathan moved away, just outside the stone doorway, for a little more privacy.

"Please, Dr. Philips," he began. "Peter's been doing so much better at home. Really, I think the Clinic's been very good for him. I don't know how he's been missing time there – he gets dropped at the gates every morning but I promise I will sit down with him and get to the bottom of this. Please give him another chance. Peter _needs_ to be registered at the Clinic – if he gets thrown out, it could make things very complicated for us. "

He heard Dr. Philips sigh. "I appreciate your position, Mr. Petrelli and I have no desire to disadvantage Peter. On one to one discussions, Peter is very obviously a caring and sensitive young man. However, I cannot take Peter's personal situation into account if his attitude is affecting the ability of the doctors to treat their patients."

Nathan closed his eyes and leant against the wall. "I understand, Dr. Philips and I know you need to consider others but I'm asking you for one more chance. Let me talk to Peter, we'll make some changes. I swear you'll see a difference in him." He held his breath as he waited for Philips to speak again.

After a moment's pause, Philips spoke up. "I like Peter, Mr. Petrelli and I feel we still have a lot more we can offer each other so for those reasons I'm willing to give him another chance on the understanding that you address these matters with him at home and make any changes where necessary." Nathan breathed a huge sigh of relief, looking up and immediately grimacing as he saw his mother watching him, her arms folded. Ignoring her, Nathan turned back towards the side room where he had left his little brother.

"Absolutely, you have my word."

"I'll be arranging a meeting with you in two week's time to discuss Peter's progress."

"That'll be fine. And thank-you, Dr. Philips."

As the two men signed off and ended their conversation, Nathan pocketed his phone and flung his file down on the table where Peter was still seated. Peter had been expecting something of the sort so he didn't jump at the sudden noise. However, it still made his gut tighten and uncomfortably twist. The boy glanced up at him as Angela followed her eldest son in to the little room, hovering in the doorway with pursed lips and enquiring eyes.

"Peter. What the hell have you been doing?" he demanded, leaning one hand on the table and in to his brother's personal space. Peter shrugged away from him and stood, backing out of reach before he could be pulled down to his seat again – or worse.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted. "Look I'm not going to be gone long – dinner's not till half past so I'll still make it."

"Now Peter," came his mother's even voice, concern and kindness dripping from her words. "Listen to your brother, dear."

Nathan half-turned to face her. "_Thank you_, Mom. I've got this."

She shrugged. "If you say so, Nathan. I was only trying to help."

The politician returned his attention to his younger brother. "_Sit back down_." Peter recognised the particular tone and, with a put upon sigh, he returned to his seat and sank down onto it. The young nurse rested one hand under his chin as he waited for Nathan to begin.

"Now," his brother continued, taking a seat on the stool opposite his brother. "Just what is going on with you? Why are you falling asleep during the day – amongst other things that we'll come to later?" Peter gave a small shrug.

"I'm just tired, I guess."

Nathan's face crinkled in confusion. "But I don't understand. You don't stay out too late – you don't even stay _up_ that late. I mean," he said, thinking out loud, "I presume you do _go_ to bed when you disappear into your room?" Peter's shifty, hesitant expression was all the answer he needed.

"What?" Peter shot back, defensively. "I'm not usually tired. I just read a little, surf the net, watch T.V. – nothing untoward."

"So you sleep in class, instead?"

"You know I don't even want to _be_ there!" Peter returned, hotly. "And now you're expecting me play _nicely_ there as well?"

"Yes! Yes, I am."

"That's bull, Nathan!"

"No, that's just the way it is, like it or not. And what the hell is this about you not going to sessions? You get dropped at the gate every morning. What? Is that not happening?" Peter's eyes widened, in mild alarm before he got them under control again.

His tone was casual though his nervous mannerisms belied it. "Sure it happens. But just because I'm dropped at the gates, doesn't mean I can't walk out of them again. Besides, it was only one or two," the young man insisted, shifting uncomfortably. "I had things to do."

"Then you do them on the four days a week that you're _not_ there! You _don't_ skip sessions – ever. And from now on there'll be some one there to meet you at the _end_ of the day, too. You can wait inside in the entrance lobby until they come. And just a friendly little heads-up for you: for the next few days, it's probably going to be me."

"Nathan!" Peter objected, palms spread flat on the table. "You can't be serious? I don't need to be collected from the damned building like an infant, for God's sake." Nathan eyed him, dangerously.

"You obviously do and you _will be_ so I don't want to hear any more about it."

Peter stood and stalked towards the doorway. Immediately, Angela swooped in before he could pass her, gently placing her hands on his shoulders in a placating gesture.

"Now then, Peter. Why don't we all calm down and come and sit down in the family room? You can tell me all about it." Peter stilled, immediately and glanced back at Nathan, angrily, then down at his feet.

"Fine," he conceded, quietly. It felt good to be able to bend his mother's ear about it. For once, it seemed as though she was on his side again. He was back to being her favourite. Since the trial, Peter had got the distinct impression that his presence annoyed his mother. He had almost choked on the vibes being sent back and forth whenever his family came together. They had never been the Waltons to begin with but it was a new low, even for them.

But Nathan had other ideas. He needed to speak to Peter, true, but the last thing he wanted to do was have the conversation in front of his mother. Peter's problems were the last thing he wanted to discuss in her presence. Her condescending offers of help had grated on his every nerve each and every time she opened her mouth. The thought of her wheedling her way into his brother's confidence even more so, was more than he could stand.

"That's okay, Mom. I need to speak to Peter alone for a while." At that, Angela bristled, stepping past Peter as she drew one hand over his shoulder and down his arm. It was a gesture steeped in possession.

"Well, I'm only trying to help, Nathan. After all, it's not like I can be accused of interfering – this _is_ my own son." Peter immediately became tense. The bad vibes he had been sensing between Nathan and his mother had never been far from the surface. His gaze moved from his mother to his brother as his wistful dark eyes silently pleaded with them not to start a confrontation.

There it was, Nathan thought to himself: the first outward sign of the ownership-battle, thrown down. To see it, out there in the open like that, was almost a relief. It suddenly made his irrational fear more tangible and Nathan Petrelli was good at fighting tangible things.

But he wasn't about to rise to this challenge – not in front of Peter. The kid had enough problems without he and his mother adding to them.

"Mom. Can I have a quick word with you before dinner?" Peter rolled his eyes.

"Don't mind me," he sighed. Then he turned to his mother and laid a hand on her arm. "I'll wait in the family room."

"You'll wait in _your_ room," his older brother interjected, firmly. "Upstairs." He nodded his head in the direction of the staircase. Again, the young man looked towards his mother and then to his brother. In a contest between the two of them, he decided, there was no disputing the winner.

Muttering under his breath, he turned and headed back down the hallway. Nathan and Angela watched as he slowly climbed the staircase before Nathan followed him out and into the living room. Left with little other option, Angela followed, her irritation at being made to follow rather than lead and at her youngest son's obvious loyalties, kept securely under check.

Once inside the family room, Nathan seated himself on the edge of the couch seat while Angela reclined back in the armchair, facing him. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation – confrontation with his mother seldom was, but Nathan needed her to understand his boundaries, once and for all. At that moment, Heidi entered the room, concern evident on her face.

"There you are," she exclaimed, lightly coming to stop by Nathan and take his hand in her slender one. "I was beginning to wonder where everyone had got to. Andre's getting anxious about serving dinner." He smiled at her, hoping it appeared pleasant instead of strained. He could feel his facial muscles tugging themselves into a scowl, even as he willed them to turn upwards into a smile. Whoever said that smiling was easier than frowning had obviously never encountered the likes of Angela Petrelli.

"Just some minor Peter-drama," he explained. A look of regrettable understanding crossed her keen face. She squeezed his fingers, gently.

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs." Then Nathan turned to his mother and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could get a syllable out, however, Angela beat him to the punch.

"Nathan, let me get straight to the point." Both Nathan and his wife raised their eyebrows in mild surprise. They made no comment however, allowing Angela to continue. "You're tired, Nathan – anyone can see that. And it's no wonder. What with your demanding career and your family, your time is precious and exhausting. I can only imagine the added strain that looking after your brother is putting on you."

"I do alright," Nathan cut in, evenly. He could see where this was going and damned if he was going to let it go there without a fight.

"Nathan's doing fine," Heidi insisted, not knowing the full story but feeling instinctively drawn to defending her husband. Angela waved away their objections.

"Oh of course he is, my dear. But a mother can read certain signs in her children, just as you can do with Simon and Monty. With the best will in the world, Nathan, you can't be there for everybody at the same time. Which is why I have come up with a simple, temporary solution." Nathan's gut wrenched and tightened.

"I propose to take Peter off your hands for a few days – take him away on a short vacation. He could use the time off to relax and it would give you some breathing space. He could do with some warmer climes. Perhaps the Tropics? I know some lovely little beaches with the spectacular hotels."

Nathan was shaking his head, slowly. "Let me get this straight? You want to take Peter on _vacation_?" Angela simply nodded her head. "Ma, I just got through reading Peter part one of the riot act for skipping therapy! How the hell can I let him go on vacation now?"

_More to the point_, he thought, _why on Earth would I be foolish enough to give you any prolonged time alone with him?_

"Because perhaps the reason for Peter's stress and unsettling behaviour is that he is in dire need of some time away from all of this? After all, the last time he left New York he ended up injured and in mortal peril. It's not like he had any therapeutic value from it."

Ignoring the jibe, Nathan leant forwards in his seat. "Ma – _maybe_ he could use a break but I'm not happy with…"

"You know, Nathan," his mother cut in. "You should come, too. Both of you." At that, Heidi started in surprise, though it was clear the notion was appealing to her. And Nathan could sense it, too. Seeing her advantage, Angela pressed on. "When was the last time we had a family vacation? This would be the perfect time. You've just come to the end of your case – a few days, maybe a week at the most – wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Oh, Nathan," Heidi said, encouragingly. "You _have_ been so over-worked, lately. It might do both you _and_ Peter the world of good to get away for a few days. Think about it," she enthused, fixing her blue eyes on his. "A nice, sandy beach, warm tropical breeze. A few days in the sun would be perfect."

With his wife on board with his mother, Nathan wasn't sure he stood much chance of resistance. In fact, it had pretty much become a forgone conclusion. Angela had changed tactics and played her hand well, like a true Petrelli.

"How am I supposed to square this with the Clinic?" he protested though all present understood that it was only a token objection.

Angela waved off his concerns. "You're a politician, Nathan. I'm certain you'll think of something. Explain that it's for the good of his health – that he needs some breathing space." Then she called on the waiting staff to bring her a drink, graciously ordering for her son and daughter-in-law, too. As far as Angela was concerned everything had just worked out more perfectly than she could have hoped for.

Heidi and his mother were now talking excitedly about the venture, discussing essential requirements to suit all their needs and marvelling at how they hadn't thought of such a simple solution sooner.

To the half-listening Nathan, this sure didn't sound like a simple solution – to anything. Still, like the hand of Fate, the matter seemed to have been swept out of his hands. Reluctantly, he kissed his wife, refused his drink as it arrived and set off to finish his discussion with Peter before he completely lost the plot of that evening's events.

* * *

That's it for chapter one. Please, pretty please, don't just skip on to the next story but take a moment to tell me what you thought? You know I'll love you all, forever:-)


	2. Chapter 2

Echoes – Chapter 2

Standard Disclaimer applies – I don't own them but if that darned show doesn't start taking better care of them, they might just have to fight me for them!

A/N – a HUGE thank you to everyone who took the time to review! And to _Mimzy _– sorry I couldn't reply to your review but thank you for that – don't worry, Peter angst a-plenty to come. Say 'hi' to Sweden for me :-) Oh, and Sarah – I'll reply to your review shortly! Just want to get this out. I really hope I've replied to everyone but if I've missed someone, then I'm so sorry and will endeavour to do much better this time!

I'm sorry this chapter is short but my writing week didn't go as planned and I'm not going to get to the stage where I wanted to be before posting. Not knowing how much longer it will be before I reach that point I thought I'd better post now, as the week is almost up. Sorry, guys :-( But I hope that people can glean some kind of enjoyment from this chapter, although it _is_ a little slow.

* * *

Over the next two days tickets were ordered and the family began to prepare for their trip. Peter had been surprised, to say the least, at the sudden announcement of a family vacation. His previous memories of them had always been tinged with unpleasant memories. The days usually _began_ well enough but, as they wore on, inevitably he and his father would butt heads and once again, Peter would be shunted to the outside of his family, reluctantly tagging along in the background because they didn't trust him to be on his own. It was made more than clear, however, that his company was not the flavour of the month. Even Nathan sided with the need to keep him close at hand, though he at least made Peter's time more enjoyable during those forced outings.

As awful as it made him feel to even _think_ it, Peter was curious as to how the vacation would unfold without his father's influence. Guiltily, he harboured secret high hopes for it but pushed them way down in his consciousness, ashamed to even give them credence. But there they were, stirring deep within, occasionally rising a little too far into his conscious thoughts.

According to Nathan, Dr. Philips hadn't been too impressed with his imminent departure but the politician had played the stress card quite effectively until eventually, both he and Peter had shared a laugh over it.

A tap on his shoulder brought his mind back to the present. Slipping his earphones out and turning off his i-pod, Peter glanced up at the secretary from where he sat on one of the lobby chairs. "Your brother's here," she explained before going back to her office. He nodded and gathered up his bag from the floor, cramming paperback books and magazines into it before zipping it shut and slinging it over his shoulder. Taking one last look round at the, now familiar building Peter smiled to himself. The family flew the next day and he couldn't wait to be shot of the place, at least for the next week.

Peter couldn't remember the last time he had properly kicked back and relaxed – thrown his cares to the wind and just taken life one day at a time. It seemed forever since he had started a day without striving to find his place in a world that didn't seem to _fit_ him. It had been even longer since he and Nathan had shared any quality time together and, though he knew his brother must also divide his time between their mother and his wife, Peter hoped to steal an unfair proportion of it.

He opened the front door to the building to find, as expected, his brother's car waiting for him. As he slid in to the passenger seat, Nathan glanced across at him. "Good day?" Peter's mouth curled up in one corner.

"As always, Nathan – the highlight of my week. You found the passports yet?"

Nathan pulled away, scanning the road in each direction as he made a right-turn out of the Clinic and into the stream of traffic. "Found mine," he replied, grinning wickedly. Peter returned a sarcastic smile.

"Uh-huh. Funnily enough I couldn't seem to find _mine_ anywhere when I searched for it."

"Nor shall you, my little jet-setting brother." He laughed as Peter rolled his eyes. "I've got yours too, don't worry."

"You are never going to let that little trip to Colorado go, are you?"

"Course I will. Just give me a couple of years – maybe ten or twelve. Fifteen, tops."

Peter chuckled. "Anyone ever tell you you're a control freak, Nate?"

"All the time but I've learned not to let it get to me. You shouldn't let it worry you, either."

"Oh, I'll bear that in mind," Peter assured him, with mock sincerity. He fiddled with the radio dial until he found a station they could both tolerate – he more than his brother, it had to be said – and then settled back in his seat.

After a few more minutes of driving, Peter once more swivelled to face his brother. "What time do we leave tomorrow?" The car turned on to the road that would lead to their street and Peter unclipped his seatbelt, letting it zip past his ear and slipping his arm out of the loop. That elicited a disapproving frown from Nathan who, possibly more so since the accident, was a stickler for keeping it fastened until the car was at a complete standstill. Peter had had to endure many a lecture on the subject on past journeys with his brother. Still, Nathan did his best not to nag and concentrated instead, on his brother's question.

"Plane leaves at twelve noon so we need to be at the airport by nine. The car's picking us up at eight." Peter nodded. That sounded like a nice, civilised itinerary. No waking up at some ungodly hour, having been _persuaded_ to go to bed at a ridiculously early hour the night before, then stumbling over suitcases in the hall and fighting to stay awake at the terminal. He noted however, with some reluctance, that lunch would more than likely be served as soon as they were in the air. No chance of feigning sleep during the meal, so soon into the flight. Perhaps if he grabbed a bag of chips and a sandwich at the airport, he could be spared the stomach churning turmoil of reheated processed vegetables and meat products?

* * *

Nathan had barely pulled in to the garage before Peter had the door open and was out of the car. His older brother scowled as he killed the engine, pulled on the handbrake with a resulting creak and opened his own door, stepping out.

"Would it kill you to have a little patience, Peter?" He slammed the door and pocketed his keys.

The young man shrugged. "What? You were stopped." Side by side, the brothers headed through the side exit from the garage, leading to the interior yard of the mansion, Nathan holding the door as Peter passed in front of him.

"Barely," the older man, muttered. Peter brushed off his sibling's annoyance.

"So don't forget the suntan lotion, Nathan. This place _has_ sun, right?"

"It's a Greek beach, Peter. Of course it has sun."

Peter's crooked smile was light and teasing, framed perfectly by his dark hair and glinting eyes. "Yeah, it's not the Tropics but it'll do. Do you think they have any ancient ruins? I wouldn't mind exploring them." Nathan clapped Peter on the back.

"Like I'm letting you loose on an unsuspecting foreign country on your own, Indiana. And I _hate_ old buildings so don't expect me to go traipsing over boulders with you." Peter turned to face him, rolling his eyes.

"It's not like I'm going to topple off a cliff or knock down a crumbling temple, Nathan." He veered off from his brother, jogging up the stairs to his room to deposit his backpack.

"Well you boys can go gallivanting around ancient ruins if you like," Heidi announced, passing Nathan in the hallway as he headed to the family room. "But I for one intend to find a lovely remote spot on that gorgeous sandy beach by the hotel and have myself some relaxing days in the sun. Maybe with regular cocktails from the hotel's beach bar, too." Nathan knelt down in front of her and planted a long, slow kiss on her lips, running his hands through her silky hair and along her neck, sending a tingle across her neck.

"That sounds just fine to me," he murmured. "As long as you don't mind a little company. And maybe the odd beer, once in a while." She chuckled, pushing playfully at his chest and running a gentle hand across his face in a light caress.

"Provided you have it with a little umbrella – we _would be_ on vacation, after all and what's vacation without umbrellas?" Her smile was enticing and mischievous leading Nathan to nuzzle her neck and whisper:

"Well, since you put it that way. Maybe Peter could entertain himself for a couple of hours, hmm?" Feeling like a giggly schoolgirl, Heidi's lips met her husband's once more, melting in to his embrace.

Peter sighed as he came back down stairs and moved past them. "That's just wholly inappropriate in front of people, you guys. Just cos the kids are away, doesn't mean you get to go all frisky." Heidi laughed as Nathan removed one hand from her back to aim a passing swat at his brother.

He ducked into the family room, his brother and sister-in-law following. "Are you all packed, Peter?" Heidi asked. He nodded, flopping down onto the couch and kicking off his sneakers.

"Mostly. I'll get the rest in the morning." He'd never been an especially anxious packer – he tended to get by with what he remembered and whatever he forgot, Nathan was bound to bring for him so he didn't see the need to bother about it.

"Do you need to take the second bottle of meds or is there enough in the one you've got?" his brother asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Peter glanced up at him and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm okay."

"Let me see the bottle," Nathan demanded, holding out one hand, expectantly. The young man sighed but dug his hand into his jeans' pocket. It came out empty. He tried the deep pockets of his hooded sweatshirt without success. Nathan's eyebrows arched, dangerously.

"Easy, Nate," Peter placated. "They're in my backpack – it's just upstairs." As he got up to fetch it, he skated quickly past his brother in the doorway, not trusting his older sibling not to aim a less playful swat at him, en route. As he darted up the stairs, Nathan called out after him:

"I don't count that as 'on you', Peter! And bring the Monopril, too."

Peter ignored him and returned, presently, with the bottles in hand. Nathan snagged them from him and, after a brief but careful examination, he handed them back to his little brother, satisfied that his heart medication would see him through the coming week but hoping to God that the circumstances wouldn't call for it again.

Peter resisted the urge to retort with an: _I told you so_. He'd learned early on that if he enjoyed having any free time outside of the mansion, it was best not to aggravate his older brother over his medication. It was not a topic the man took lightly and there had been several ruined weekends as Peter spent time figuring that out.

Instead he asked, "Where's Mom?" Nathan didn't answer immediately so his wife filled in:

"She was on the phone in the office a little while ago. I think it was Linderman."

Nathan raised a surprised eyebrow but made no comment. That wasn't a popular name in his house, least of all amongst the two other occupants of the room. Peter appeared annoyed at the latest news but also kept his comment to himself. His distaste towards the un-reputable man had never gone down well with his family. He could never quite forget the rift his anger at Linderman had caused – particularly between his father and with his brother.

God willing, he would have Nathan in his life for many, many years to come. But if the worst should ever befall him and he were to lose his brother, Peter could not bare the thought of parting over poisoned words, particularly words spent on such an unworthy man, like Linderman.

The ensuing silence suddenly became too uncomfortable: it allowed prickling thoughts to permeate the air and to resound loudly across the empty space. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, Peter switched on the television and began to idly flip channels, for the most part letting the myriad of images fly past and pausing only on the odd wildlife documentary and the music channels.

As if taking their cue from their youngest companion, Nathan and Heidi set about their own, individual tasks, Nathan running through a final 'to do' list on his PDA and Heidi scanning through the brochure for their beach and hotel at Tolon. She was very pleased with their final choice of destination. Tolon and its neighbouring Nafplion had beautiful beaches in sandy coves – quite picturesque but with enough water sports to keep the boys happy. Unlike some of the larger cities in the North Peloponnese they were not overcrowded with tourists but were still near enough to wonderful ancient sites, like Olympia.

Presently, the door to the room opened. Peter didn't look up from his programme, but Nathan and Heidi turned to the movement. Angela entered, looking eerily casual in a faded sweater and slacks. She smiled at the occupants. "Hello, Peter," she remarked, pointedly: he still had not looked up from the television and she did not like to be unacknowledged.

Her youngest son turned his attention from the screen to his mother and treated her to a warm, happy smile. Angela took a moment to take it in and marvel at the simplicity of such a powerful gesture: that was more like it, she thought to herself.

"Hey, Mom."

"How was your day, Peter?" she enquired, coming to perch on the couch, beside him. "Do you have any plans for this evening?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "Not too bad," he replied, answering her first question. "Might go to the gym in a little bit but other than that, my day is done. How was yours?" She smiled at him and patted his hand, affectionately. From across the room, Nathan could not help narrowing his eyes, even at an outwardly innocent gesture, such as this.

"Busy," she replied. "Finishing up a few things." Then she turned her attention to the other two occupants of the room. "Actually, there has been a slight change in my plans, I'm afraid."

Heidi and Nathan both put down what they were doing and gave the Petrelli matriarch their full attention.

"Nothing's wrong, Angela, I hope?" asked Heidi, concern genuine in her voice. Angela had been so looking forward to the vacation: it wouldn't do for her to miss it.

"Everything ok, Ma?" Nathan wondered, with a slight frown, echoing his wife's concern. From beside her, Peter wordlessly slipped his hand into her hers – his silent communication, received clearly. Peter's little tactile gestures and facial expressions always spoke the loudest.

The older woman squeezed the strong, supple fingers, quickly and gave a reassuring smile to the other two. "Oh, everything's fine," she insisted. "But something has come up unexpectedly and I need to hang on here for another couple of days."

And despite planning to spend most of his time with his older brother, Peter couldn't help but feel disappointed, though perhaps more for his mother than for himself. After all, Peter reasoned, she needed the break as much as the rest of them and it pained him to think of her missing out on their shared enjoyment to attend to, no doubt, boring matters at home.

"You sure you don't need any help?" her eldest son questioned. What business she had to finish up, he had no idea. She didn't officially work and, as far as he knew, the only unofficial work she was doing was on his own campaign. However, he knew well enough to leave his mother's business to his mother. At least, in shared company.

With a perfectly manicured hand, she waved away his concern and the similar exclamation about to leave her daughter-in-law's lips. "Absolutely. Now, I don't want anybody fussing!" she insisted. "The last thing I want to do is spoil anyone's vacation. I've transferred my ticket and I'll be joining you in a couple of days." She turned and smiled, pleasantly at Peter. "I'll still come to the airport tomorrow to see you all off."

"You don't have to do that, Mom."

"Nonsense. I want to and that's an end to it." She released his hand and smoothed her palms against the legs of her slacks. "Now, is everyone packed and ready? Peter?" Nathan chuckled as Peter's expression became affronted.

"Why does everyone keep directing that question at _me_?" There was a telling curl to the corner of his mouth though, as he struggled with a smile.

"Because given half the chance," Nathan explained, "you'd forget to bring _yourself_ to the airport."

And they passed the evening in light-hearted banter until it was time to call it a night, Peter reluctantly dragging himself upstairs, propelled forwards every few steps with a gentle shove from his brother. All too soon, the morning would be upon them and the chaos would begin.

* * *

"Flight 287," Heidi announced. "That's us. Nathan, could you grab my bag?" Her husband nodded and reached down to retrieve it, slinging it over his back while he held his own carryon in one hand and the tickets and passports in the other. Despite the occasional vacant wandering, he had managed _not_ to lose Peter and was feeling relatively happy, now that they were about to board the plane.

"Now remember," Angela insisted, as she walked them to the barrier, "don't let your older brother work too hard, Peter. This is meant to be his vacation, though he may forget that every once in a while." He laughed.

"Don't worry, Mom. If I see his palmtop come out at all during the week, I'll sling it in the ocean."

Nathan nudged him with his elbow as he shouldered past his brother. "Yeah, and you'll be eating all your meals standing up," he muttered as Peter grinned, wickedly and pulled a face at him.

"OK, Ma," Nathan announced, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. "We gotta go. Give the hotel a call when you're coming in and I'll make sure one of us is there to meet you. Peter, have you got everything?"

"You asked me that already, Nathan and I already said yes. Stop panicking." The young man also leaned in and gave his mother a quick kiss goodbye. She cupped his chin in her hand for a moment, before patting his face and releasing him.

"I'll look for you when I land, Nathan," she assured him. "Now you had all better hurry if you're going to get your plane."

With final waves and goodbyes, the three Petrellis made their way through the checks and on towards their flight. First step down, Nathan kept telling himself. First step down and nothing wrong yet.

Snagging Peter by the elbow (he'd stopped to try and buy something from the vending machine but they were going to be eating as soon as they got in the air so, in Nathan's opinion, there was no sense in wasting time) Nathan trundled his family through the Gate, content that soon nothing but sun, sea and sand would await them.

And when their rows had been called, boarding passes had been checked and their stubs returned to them, Peter boarded the plane alongside his family, contentedly looking forwards and, typically, missing the figure who, just for a moment, hovered in the Perspex wall next to him, hollow eyes following him through the doors and onto the flight.

* * *

Ok – next part to come as soon as I can. Reviews really help to get creative juices flowing, particularly when inspiration suddenly seems to leave me, for some unknown reason. I've been having to download lots of pictures with Peter and his adorable emo hair from early on in the season, to try and get me in the writing mood!

So please, please, please tell me what you think!

And I almost forgot: Happy Valentine's Day to those who are planning on celebrating! My fiancé has a special day traipsing over London, planned. My feet are just praying they will survive – there are a lot of cobbled streets in London and he wants me to wear heels…hmmm.


	3. Chapter 3

Echoes – Chapter 3

Standard Disclaimer applies – I don't own them and they're probably very grateful that I don't.

A/N – I'm sorry this has taken me so long to update – blame my introduction to the Gilmore Girls and the lovely character of Jess! He makes writing Peter rather difficult to get back in to. Still, I have soldiered on and I hope you like what's on offer. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hope I replied to your messages and I'm extremely sorry if I didn't. And to _Mimzy_ – thanks for your review – I think you'll find Nathan has plenty to stress him out with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It was late evening by the time the weary travellers had cleared customs and baggage reclaim. They were met by a driver from their hotel who promptly whisked their bags away and stowed them, neatly in the trunk of the luxury car. As Peter walked, or rather stumbled through the glass doors of the terminal, he was immediately hit by the change of climate. The air was light and un-oppressive and the sun that still tinged the horizon, leant its gentle warmth to their surroundings. The air was not exactly what one would call fragrant, still mired in the fumes of airport traffic and the bustle of the busy city but Peter closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, none the less, allowing his somewhat foggy mind to take him to the sounds and scents that would await him at their final destination.

The young man started suddenly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to his left to see Nathan standing there, an amused expression on his usually austere face.

"Come on, Peter," he ribbed. "Sleep in the car, not here." The boy's mouth curled up in one corner in a tired smile.

"How long till we get there?" He moved to the open passenger door and slid in. Heidi was already settled in to the front seat and was occupied with fishing out the hotel booking form from her bag. Finally, Nathan filed in next to him and the door clicked shut behind him.

"It's about a forty minute drive," the older man informed him, leaning back against the leather seats. "Put your seatbelt on." Shaking his head, imperceptively, Peter complied.

"What do you guys feel like doing when we get there?" Peter wondered, leaning forwards slightly to talk to Heidi. His sister-in-law reached back one hand and patted his arm, from where it rested on the back of her chair.

"Whatever you two feel like doing," she answered. "I wouldn't mind a long bath and maybe a look at the hotel bar, personally." From behind her, Nathan nodded his approval. Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. Here they were in a brand new city, in a brand new country and all they wanted to do was exactly what they could have been doing back home in New York.

"Oh come on, you two!" he protested. "Where's your sense of adventure? You could have done that back home. Don't you want to…".

"To what?" Nathan cut in, somewhat fondly exasperated. "Explore?" Peter's expression immediately shifted to a defensive, slightly embarrassed one. "Peter, it's going to be dark by the time we get there and none of us feel up to going all the way in to town. Good luck exploring the surrounding beach and cliffs in moonlight!"

"I bet it would look really stunning," Peter pointed out, hoping perhaps to sway Heidi on matters of aesthetics. She smiled, wearily at him, in turn hoping to placate her younger companion for a few hours, at least.

"I'm sure it would, Sweetheart, but I really am too tired tonight. I just want to get in and unwind and then I promise I shall be at your disposal for whatever you want to do tomorrow." At that, Nathan glanced up in mild surprise.

"Don't I get a look in?"

Peter shot him a sideways, sour look. "No, Nathan," he informed him. "You're not on the list." He ducked as his brother aimed a playful smack at his head and Heidi chuckled.

"Anyway," his older brother concluded, "you'll be asleep the moment we get to the hotel. You could barely keep your eyes open on the plane."

"I will not," the younger man scoffed. Nathan merely raised his eyebrows.

"We'll see."

Peter rolled his eyes before turning away and fixing his gaze on the window, watching, mesmerised as the traffic and lights of a strange city streamed past in an almost surreal blur.

By the time they arrived at their hotel, Nathan was shaking a very drowsy Peter awake and guiding him up to his hotel room before depositing him on the bed and pulling off his shoes.

* * *

_The water was still warm, the sun's rays dappled on the surface of the water. Peter could feel more, this time: the salt crystals that brushed against his skin; the trickle of water, which ran down from the base of his neck, along his spine, weaving its way down with a tickling caress. He didn't mind it, though. The boy closed his eyes and let the air breeze across his bare chest._

_Soon, however, he opened them again. The air was cooler, the breeze less pleasant. He shuddered and tried to wrap his arms about his body to stave off the chill. To his concern, however, without his spread arms, his body began to slowly sink and so he braved the cold and resumed his strokes against the water around him. _

_He remained like that for some time until Peter finally became aware that he was no longer alone in his sacred space. He wasn't sure when his sanctuary had been invaded but it had been. He shook his head, closing his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't allowed in here – no one was. Not again. No one came here, no one talked, no one touched. The tickling water was back now but it wasn't pleasant – it irritated him. It burned and itched and he wanted it gone. Reaching back with one arm, Peter swiped at the sensation as the waves began to chop and froth around him. And that's when Peter looked down. From beneath him, deep, deep down the something was staring back. _

He woke with a thin sheen of perspiration covering his body, his shirt clinging to him, uncomfortably. The chill in the night air made him shiver. Still held somewhere between waking and sleeping, Peter shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor, discarded. Unconsciously, he rolled over, pulling the bed's outer throw with him until he had succeeded in wrapping himself in a warm cocoon. Then he returned to his slumber, holding tight to it until the fresh morning light would filter through the gauze curtains and wash away the memory. And from the end of his bed, the sallow figure patiently continued to watch.

* * *

After a breakfast of fresh fruit and toast, the next morning, Peter succeeded in dragging his companions into the nearby village. They had spent a pleasant, relaxed couple of hours looking round the small, local shops as Heidi picked up some presents for the boys and Nathan and Peter wandered around some of the tiny, white-stoned churches, pocketed around the town. By lunchtime Peter's energy reserves were running low and so he had no objections to being dragged back to the hotel for a brief respite.

After food and drinks, both Nathan and Heidi won the argument for trying out the beach. Reluctantly, Peter tagged along. A coach tour had been leaving that afternoon bound for the ancient ruins of the theatre of Epidavros. He had been more than happy to go alone but Nathan had insisted they remain together, pointing out that his younger brother had had the morning he wanted and now it was the elder two's choice for the afternoon. Peter had always been one for fairness and so found himself unable to counter the logic of his brother's argument, despite doubting his intentions. Nathan wanted him close at hand and Peter just wished he would come out and admit it.

And so the young man found himself sitting by the edge of sea, letting the waves wash over his legs before retreating back into the sea, continuing to gently lap. He had to admit, it was nice. He'd been swimming earlier until his brother, mindful of his heart and their already busy morning, had wanted him in to take a rest. Heidi was stretched out on a wooden sun-lounger under a large umbrella, reading a book. Nathan was still in the water, seemingly relishing the freedom he felt under the waves and in the open expanse of the ocean. Peter watched him from the shore – strong, purposeful strokes and the epitome of gracefulness. Every now and then he would come back in to check on his family and gauge that all was much as he left it, before returning to the water.

Eventually, Nathan had come in to join his wife on a sun-lounger, cold martini in hand. Peter had refused to come out of the sun for anything more than a few minutes at a time, arguing that, as a nurse, he knew the risks of skin cancer better than anyone. He now sat, looking out to sea where something curious had caught his attention.

Some way out, in the distance, a small pointed rock jutted out from the water. It wasn't a large rock but its surface, despite tilted at an odd angle, was flat and smooth. It was only big enough for one person and Peter noted that, over a period of time, one or two people were climbing on to it and then diving off under the water to the east of the rock. But the oddity was that they did not appear to re-emerge. At first, Peter had been worried until he had noticed the divers reappearing further down, some twenty, thirty metres from the rock. After watching this for close to half an hour, Peter curiously rose to his feet and caught one of the beach lifeguards- a bronzed, dark-haired lean man - as he walked past on his rounds.

"Excuse me?" The man stopped and turned. He followed where Peter was pointing, out to sea. "Those people diving off there – what's under there?" Immediately, the man's expression darkened and he humphed, irritably.

"There's some wretched tunnel that runs right by that rock so of course every now and then you get a would-be diver who wants to see if they can swim through it without drowning! Damned stupid idea, if you ask me but apparently, there's nothing we can do about it." And Peter got the distinct impression that this man had tried his hardest. With that, he turned away from Peter and continued stalking the beach on his rounds.

Peter had to agree – there didn't seem a whole lot of point to it. However, something about that rock simply…drew his attention. The young man tried to put it out of his mind. Heidi was waving him over to join them on the hotel's patio for an afternoon snack and so he amiably went to join them but even when picking at a club sandwich, his eyes kept furtively returning to that rock in the ocean. Finally, the nagging sensation became too much for him and Peter pushed his half eaten sandwich away and once more took up his place on the beach, staring out to sea.

By the time the sun was hanging low in the sky, the tingling in his stomach and throughout his body could no longer be ignored. Nathan and Heidi were about ready to go back inside to shower and change before dinner when Peter joined them. They looked up in surprise when their allusive young companion approached them. Peter waved his hand out towards the ocean as he addressed his elder brother.

"Nate, I'm just going for another swim," he informed him. Immediately, Nathan glanced down at his watch and then back up at the sky.

"It's getting kind of late, Peter," he remarked.

The boy shrugged. "I know. I'm only going out to that rock over there. I won't be long." Nathan squinted to follow his line of vision.

"Peter, that's got to be almost a mile out!"

"No it isn't – it just seems that way to you because it's getting late and your eyes are old and tired."

From beside her husband, Heidi giggled. "If you two are going to start this again then I'm going inside to get changed. I'll leave you to argue this, Nathan." And with that, she drew him down for a kiss before releasing him and wheeling herself back into the hotel.

When she had gone, Nathan turned back to his brother and folded his arms across his chest. Peter sighed, loudly. "I'll be fine, Nathan!"

Nathan narrowed his eyes as he considered the boy's proposal. Reluctantly he acquiesced. "Fine – but I want you to take your meds first."

"I don't need to…"

"Take them," his brother injected, forcefully, glaring the younger Petrelli down. Peter took a measured breath and then released it, slowly.

"Fine," he agreed, calmly.

"And you clear everything on your plate at dinner."

"Fine."

Then Nathan nodded, handing Peter a glass of water as he rummaged in his bag for a small, plastic bottle. "Twenty minutes, Peter. Heidi and I are thinking of us all going out for dinner by the bay and the restaurants in the village don't stay open late." Once again, Peter gave a short nod to indicate he had heard him.

After downing the tiny pills, Peter left his brother sitting on the beach as he pushed his way in to the sea. The water steadily rose up his legs, submerging his knees, then his thighs before finally rising up to lap around his waist, allowing him to lift his feet from the sandy bottom and float for a moment. Peter moved forward a few more feet until he could swim freely and when he was up to his neck in the gently rolling waves, Peter tipped back his head for a moment and closed his eyes letting the water soothe and cool the back of his neck.

He snapped out of the moment and pushed on, leaving the shore further and further behind him. The rock came in to view ahead of him and he increased his pace. The strain on his muscles was starting to tell – the distance was further than he had anticipated though admitting his brother had been right was more than he could bear. In the back of his consciousness, Peter could feel the tell tale signs of the tightening across his chest, could feel the struggle within to pump the blood faster around his body. But there was no way that he could stop – to come in to difficulty in the open water would be that much worse than if he at least made it to the relative safety of the rock.

Willing his body not to betray him, Peter pressed onwards, striving forwards with each strained stroke until eventually, the tips of his fingers grazed the rough, damp surface of the rock. He took a moment, simply relishing in the feel of something firm and immovable to grip on to, to anchor him to solid ground. He allowed his mind, so focused on the battle of swimming, to relax for a moment, to wander. Then he remembered that a wandering mind was not always good, particularly when danger was not out of sight. Forcing his vacillating thoughts to refocus, Peter found a firm platform on the worn surface and pushed his hands down, using the water's up-thrust to help his initial spring from the water. He then clambered the rest of the way in a somewhat ungraceful tangle of arms and legs, scraping his shins and knees in so doing.

For a moment, Peter simply lay back against the rock, exhausted. His heart beat a steady staccato rhythm and the young man concentrated on slowing his breathing, inhaling and exhaling with purposeful timing. His nitroglycerin was back on the shore in his towel bag so the young man could not afford for anything to go wrong. Nathan would never let him hear the end of it.

Staring up into the sky, he felt at once an overwhelming sensation of peace and tranquillity. The sun was almost over the horizon now but he felt like he could stay like that forever. Being there, on that rock in the middle of the ocean somehow called to Peter. It reminded the young dreamer of a safe and familiar place: Somewhere untouchable, somewhere untouched.

He wasn't sure what drew his eyes from the sky and to the water. Maybe it was the sound, maybe the sensation. There was an indistinct hum around him all of a sudden, like the distant humming of a central heating system, reverberating through the water. Peter propped himself up onto one elbow and awkwardly turned to the distraction. The water was still – as still as a millpond. If there was indeed a tunnel underneath, he could see no sign of it from his vantage point. He sat up, cross-legged, and continued to stare at the water waiting for the sign he was sure would appear. Patience was a virtue and Peter was learning, through the recent changes in his life, to try to embrace this virtue as wholeheartedly as he embraced every other passion in his life.

And so he continued to wait and continued to stare. Eventually, his eyes became sore and dry and he blinked and rubbed at them to try to relieve the stinging sensation. The gentle lull of the waves, lapping against the side of his perch was almost hypnotic, as his neck and shoulders seemed to softly move back and forth in a matching motion. He could barely feel the slight drop in temperature as the sun sunk beneath the horizon and only the borrowed light of the evening remained, lingering for a moment longer like the latent image on the old television sets he remembered from his youth.

Yet from the water, nothing. The boy felt disappointment gnaw at his stomach and settle uncomfortably on his heart, pulling it down into the pit of his chest making it harder to breathe. He had been so sure, so convinced that there was something…remarkable about this place, something that he - and only he - was meant to find. But apparently, not today. Whatever secrets needed to be revealed, were not going to yield this time.

Confused and heavy-souled, Peter slipped silently from the rock and began the journey back to shore. The light had all but faded but the hotel and various electric lights and other fires, dotted along the beach made navigating his way to shore easy. The return swim felt longer on his muscles than the outward journey but he still made it to the sandy shores without incident.

Sloshing out of the water, Peter made his way to the hotel's patio where he had left his towel and bag. He had barely scooped his towel up, however before he felt a non-too gentle grip on his arm. Peter looked up at his brother in surprise, his eyes widening in confusion at the look of irritation plastered over Nathan's face.

"An _hour and a half_, Peter?" he ground out. "This is your idea of twenty minutes?" Peter sputtered in disbelief as he shrugged out of his older sibling's grip.

"An hour and a half?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "I don't know what you're talking about! I wasn't." Nathan took a hold of him again and shook his brother once, keeping his steely fingers clawed around the younger man's upper arm.

"I'm the one with the damned watch, Peter. I think I would know." And when Peter took a moment to regard his brother carefully, he had to admit that Nathan was now showered, dried, groomed and changed for dinner. Not exactly indicative of a twenty-minute period. The puzzled expression etched across the boy's face did not seem to temper the politician's volatile mood. "You know, just this once Peter would it have killed you to have gone along with what somebody _else_ wanted to do for a change? I forget what a _brat_ you can be at times – do you always have to have your own way?" Peter's expression immediately turned from confusion to hurt.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" he protested, vehemently, his own voice rising. "Why _would_ I?"

"_Save it_, Peter," Nathan snapped, the anger still rolling off him. He dragged the young man alongside, causing him to stumble every other step as he marched them back in to the hotel. "Heidi's too tired to go out now so we're just going to send something up to the rooms."

"I'm _not_ hungry," Peter shot back, wrenching himself free and wishing there somewhere else he could go to on this island that could take him away from his brother's presence, even for a short while. He needed to cool off and he didn't want to be around his sanctimonious elder sibling while doing so. However, not only were his clothes in his room but his room was also adjacent to Nathan and Heidi's. He couldn't even be spared the elevator ride.

Nathan leaned in close to him and glanced about them quickly before hissing, "_Don't_ start this again – _not_ here, _not_ in public. I will not have you embarrass me _here_."

Peter stepped back, suddenly, eyes bright with emotion. "What? As opposed to how I embarrass you back in New York?" And ever so slightly, Nathan recoiled. His granite expression softened, just a fraction.

"I never said that," he insisted, quietly. He didn't have to and they both knew it.

There was a moment's pregnant pause, then: "How did we get on to this, Nathan?" There was unresolved pain lacing the young man's words, the waver in his tone causing his voice to sound younger and higher than it usually did. Nathan looked away from Peter, down to the floor, unable to see the honest emotion shining through those glassy eyes. Honest emotions made him uncomfortable.

"From me forgetting the time?" Peter pressed on, taking a step closer to his sibling, his eyes seeking his brother's. "How does that _always_ come back to this?" Another pause, another space of unknown fear. "Are you _really_ that ashamed?" Peter's heart almost stopped in his chest as he watched his brother work his jaw round, scouring his brain for the right response.

"You know that I'm not." The older man drew his eyes up to meet Peter's, holding his gaze securely. "But I'm not going through this argument with you again. You agreed to dinner earlier – I'm just asking you not to kick up a fuss now." He caught Peter's chin and focused the boy's face on him. "Okay?"

Peter nodded, still unhappy but resolved to end the conflict. He shivered. Noticing this, Nathan put a guiding hand on the boy's shoulder as he ushered them both towards the elevator. "Come on – you need to get showered and dressed. You're beginning to smell like a barnacle."

"You've never smelt a barnacle," Peter muttered, softly as they waited for the doors to open.

"Well, I'm a visionary, Peter. I can imagine." The doors slid open with an accompanying _ding_ and both Petrellis stepped inside.

* * *

Peter found Heidi early the next morning, as Nathan was in the bathroom taking his shower, and apologised. "Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," she had insisted, running a warm hand across his face. "We'll try to head out to the bay for dinner, tonight. I spotted just the little restaurant I want to try yesterday, while we were shopping. It has these tiny lanterns around the outside – I imagine it looks beautiful at night." Peter had nodded his agreement and turned the conversation to that morning's plans, grateful that she hadn't added to the guilt already playing on his conscience.

The morning turned in to an amicable affair. The family boarded a coach to the ancient city of Mycenae. While Heidi listened in fascination to their tour guide about the history of the area, Peter found himself lost in thought and wonder as he wandered the ruins and marvelled at the likes of the majestic Lion's Gate. Nathan, too, admired the sights but couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that at any moment, Peter was going to attempt to fly off the edge of one of those very steep cliffs and into the swirling mist below. He's done it once, he kept telling himself. He assuaged this fear by periodically calling him back for photographs.

It was early afternoon before they arrived back at their hotel and, after a quick shower and change the family headed back out to the beach. This time, Peter was prepared. His pills were in a waterproof capsule around his neck and Nathan had none-too-subtly given him his water-resistant watch to wear. Nathan had decided to take out a small boat around the harbour. Peter, who had a tendency to get seasick, even on the smallest of vessels, had declined his brother's invitation, leaving him very much to his own devices.

With a growing sense of anticipation, he set off once more for the small, angular rock as though it were an opposing magnet. No one had been near it all day, the last remaining fascination with it seemingly ended. He hoisted himself onto it with ease this time and seated himself as comfortably as he could. The buzz seemed to surround him far more quickly than it had the previous night. It reverberated around him, pulsing through his stomach and along his arms and legs. The hairs on the back of his arms stood straight and Peter rubbed at the feeling to try and counter it.

At first, the clear blue waters around him yielded nothing more than their own, ubiquitous beauty. But then he saw it: tiny lights, under the water. A burning, glowing light, like a candle flame, deep below the surface. Peter glanced up and around him, looking for the source of what could be a reflection. But, aside from the sun, which was in the wrong position, there was nothing that could account for it. Curiously, Peter rose to his feet, took a deep breath and dived.

* * *

Nathan had just returned the boat to the harbour, found and greeted his wife and had turned his attention to locating his younger brother. They had agreed to meet for a mid-afternoon snack and drink at the bar and he had discreetly set the alarm on the watch he had given his brother, to remind him of just that. Peter may be annoyed at him for his lack of faith but Nathan knew his little brother and that irritation would soon fade over a cold beer.

He picked his way carefully through the reddening sunbathers spread out along the sand, eyes constantly scanning for the familiar floppy bangs and crooked smile. Not finding his brother there, Nathan turned his attention to the water when someone approached him from behind. Assuming they were headed past him, Nathan ignored this person until they actually addressed him.

"Excuse me?" Surprised, Nathan turned to face the man, a slightly rotund, middle-aged figure whose hair had whitened before its time but who obviously took efforts to maintain his stronger build from his youth.

"Can I help you?" the politician wondered. The man was American, judging from his appearance and accent but Nathan couldn't imagine his political renown stretched to random vacationers in Europe.

"I'm sorry to approach you like this," the man continued, appearing a little flustered, "but are you looking for the young man with the dark hair, who I saw you with earlier?" Something cold tightened in Nathan's gut.

"Yes," he answered, wariness lacing his tone.

The gentleman shifted uncomfortably and pointed out to the sea behind him, Nathan following where he indicated. "I've been watching the ocean for some time now. There's this rock, out there, in the distance." Nathan nodded. He knew the one. Seeing that Nathan understood, the man pressed on. "People sometimes dive off it and swim this tunnel that runs along to the east of it."

Nathan raised his eyebrows. He hadn't known about any tunnel. He could damned well have figured that someone as insanely curious as Peter would have been drawn to something as stupid as that. He was brought out of his internal ramblings, by his companion.

"Well, I watched your brother dive in but I didn't see him come out where the tunnel ends." Nathan immediately snapped his attention to the sea as the man continued to explain. "I thought perhaps I just missed him but I thought it was odd at the time – I usually don't." Nathan was moving now, quickly towards the sea, his pace increasing with each step, causing the gentleman to trot faster to keep up with him.

"But when I saw you looking for him," the older man continued, "well then I really became worried. I started scanning the water for him but I can't see him anywhere."

"Peter!" Nathan cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, with no particular direction in mind.

"There's quite a strong current," the man commented, more to himself than to the increasingly agitated man before him. Irritably, Nathan spared him a sideways glance. He could do without the doom and gloom forecasts of the Shipping News from amateurs like him when his brother was no-where to be seen. What he needed was answers. "When was this?" Nathan snapped. The man looked at his watch.

"I saw him go in about twenty minutes ago." The politician absorbed and processed this information. Glancing around them, he spotted one of the lifeguards and flagged him over.

In no time at all, Nathan had informed him of the situation, curtly and succinctly. He didn't want to be slowed down by the man's asinine questions. All he wanted to say was simple: my brother's out there, find him. But the lifeguard moved into action soon enough. Radioing to a colleague, two of them took a boat out to the rock to investigate the tunnel while Nathan was sent to check the hotel to make sure Peter wasn't simply sitting in his room, having bypassed everyone.

Nathan had dashed into the hotel, quickly filled Heidi in on the situation and delegated the task to her. He needed to be on the beach, he needed to be looking but the lifeguards had assured him that they knew what they were doing and things would go more smoothly if he stayed out of it and let them work. The elder Petrelli didn't appreciate that. If there was a change to be made, any action to be taken, Nathan was not the kind of politician who shied away from taking it. And where his family was concerned, Nathan did not do well with putting his trust in others. But they had tried to assure him that everything was most likely fine.

Nathan stood on the shore, looking out to where the divers had just gone in, watching, his arms folded tight across his chest. And they were probably right. Peter would be fine. His brother liked to have these little scares but he always turned up safe and sound somewhere, usually in a frustratingly obvious place. He wouldn't be surprised if he _were_ in the damned hotel. Nathan's mind started to envisage the scenario now: his clueless, baffled little brother emerging with a look of puzzlement on his face and how he would be torn between wanting to hug him and hit him. Right now, he would probably go for hugging him and never letting go.

A sound on the sand behind him made him turn. Heidi appeared, gently shaking her head, worry shining through her eyes. She moved next to him and silently pried one of his hands away from where it was wrapped around his body. Firmly, caressing his fingers, she held it in her own and waited with him.

While eventualities played out in the screens of their minds, the divers emerged from the end of the tunnel. Nathan wasn't sure what he expected to see, but couldn't decide whether he was filled with hope or disappointment that Peter still had not been found. If they had found his brother, he couldn't possibly have survived down there but if they hadn't found him, then where did that leave them? Nathan knew that there were people scouring the beach for him and the scanning the water. So far, no one had reported in to the lifeguard who remained near them as their point of contact.

As the boat returned to shore and the divers disembarked, the man who had told them not to panic, now started to worry. He glanced to the family once before moving ahead to intercept his team before they reached the brother and his wife. The two Petrellis watched, in silence. No news didn't necessarily mean bad news, after all. Peter had probably gone round to the cliffs and was oblivious to the panic he was causing. Or he was right there in that crowd of people and they couldn't see the wood for the trees. They were just making a huge fuss over nothing and soon they would all be laughing over it.

So when their lifeguard returned to them, Peter's broken and battered watch held in his outstretched hands for them to identify, Nathan felt for a moment, that his legs wouldn't hold him. Dimly, as though through a fog, he heard snippets of the words that accompanied his watch: currents were strong, they were checking the waters now. They would find him. They had his passport to give them a picture to distribute. They were to try not to worry. And so Nathan squeezed his wife's hand, sank down on the sand next to her and continued to stare out to sea.

* * *

That's it for now. Please let me know what you think. I know this seems a little strange right now but I promise it does have a direction that it's heading in if you're willing to stick with it for a while :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Echoes – Chapter 4**

Standard disclaimer applies

Author's Note: I don't imagine many people are still reading this but I'm making an effort to finish my uncompleted stories and out of all the ones left shamelessly hanging, I felt this one had the greatest chance of completion. Please, if you are reading this, bear with me. My 'feel' for it has changed a lot in 5 years and I'm trying to find a happy merger between two very different styles and ideas. I hope it works and that you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry for any spelling errors - I have tried hard to find them but I'm sure one or two will slip through although some may be UK variations.

* * *

Plates of exquisite food lay under silver-domed cloches, barely disturbed. Night had finally settled over the island and with it, Nathan had eventually returned to their hotel room. A police trawler and coastguard boat still patrolled the waters around the island, their searchlights occasionally cutting an arc across the ceiling of their room, above the curtain poles. Heidi had drawn the curtains several hours ago: the bright sunshine had seemed intrusive, irreverent. And as the day had worn on she could not stand to look out over the sea for a moment longer. It felt abhorrent to her that even as children screeched and splashed and families bathed and water-skiers skimmed the waves, that beneath it all, somewhere, was Peter.

So she had shut the scene out of her mind and instead, tried to find ways to occupy herself. Nathan was out, canvassing the island with the local police, desperately hoping that the young man had come ashore further down the island. The silence in that hotel room hurt her ears and she longed for something to break it. Whenever the phone rang, it cut through her nerves like a shot in the dark as she prayed it was news - good news – on Peter. But it never was: Nathan calling to check in with her, the press trying to wheedle a statement out of her, the police checking that Peter hadn't called - but never the young man himself.

So she had smiled with relief when Nathan returned, holding out one hand to him from where she sat by the bed. He immediately moved to take it and sank down onto the bed, gently rubbing her fingers.

"Anything?" she asked. Nathan gently shook his head. His lean face was drawn and heavy with lines, his eyes dulled but determined.

"It's still too early to give up though," he insisted. "Pete's probably somewhere on the island. We just need to keep looking. Police have his picture everywhere and I'm pretty sure Pete had his medical ID bracelet on in case he has trouble with his heart. He won't stay lost for long." _But then why hasn't he called? Where is he? Why has no-one seen him yet?_ _Is he alive? Injured? Did he need them? Was he alone?_ There were some questions neither had the courage to voice.

Heidi ran a soft hand over his face, trailing her fingers down from his brow until they ran the length of his jaw. He sighed, deeply, and leaned in to her touch causing her heart to clench. As reassuring as his words were, they brought nothing but icy dread to her stomach. That was her husband's _politician face_, his 'hard sell' speech, the 'make yourself believe it and the voters will believe it too', look. Well he already _had_ her vote and he didn't need to convince her: they were both singing from the same hymn sheet.

"You need to rest," she insisted, firmly. For a second, Nathan held her palm against his check before lightly kissing it and then replacing it in her lap.

"Soon," he promised, starting to rise from the mattress. "I just want to call the school camp – check in with the boys."

"Monty and Simon are _fine_," his wife replied. "The school knows not to talk to the press and the kids don't know what's going on." She saw Nathan open his mouth to cut in but beat him to it. "And that's how I want it to stay. Let them enjoy this camp, Nathan. If they need to deal with…_things_ later, then they have the rest of their lives to do that." She watched as Nathan closed his mouth and glanced away towards the folds of the white, linen curtains. The French doors behind them were opened onto the balcony, and the material swished gently in the breeze. Eventually, he gave a small nod, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

Smiling encouragingly, Heidi ran a hand down her husband's back. "They're fine," she repeated, quietly. Nathan's need to talk to the boys again was one she understood all too well. As soon as it had become apparent that Peter would not be joining them that evening after all, the urge to speak to their children, to assure themselves that the boys were safe and well, had been almost over-powering.

"I'm going to go to bed, get some rest for tomorrow," she continued. Nathan still stared out of the window, the muscles across his back straining tight beneath his shirt. "There's nothing more you can do tonight, Nathan."

"I _know_." His reply was quicker and harsher than he meant it to be. "I just," he continued, in a calmer tone of voice, "I just need to stay by the phone a while…in case they call…in case Ma calls." He turned to look at her. "Is her flight still landing on time tomorrow morning?" The young woman nodded.

"I checked in with her an hour ago. Everything's fine." Then she stopped. _Nothing_ was fine; _everything_ was falling apart; _all of them_ knew it. "I'm going to bed," she said again, mostly to herself, as she began to wheel herself off to the bathroom. "Don't stay up too late."

Unseen by her, Nathan absently nodded, brushing his thumb over the keypad of his phone. They both knew neither one of them would sleep that night. Images flooded his mind: Peter, broken and dashed against the craggy rocks of a cove, his dark hair limp across his forehead, covering his eyes; Peter, skin mottled and ashen, buffeted by the currents and dragged along the unforgiving depths of the ocean floor, his body starting to attract the attention of the creatures of sea; his youthful, beautiful features now marred, pallid, unrecognisable. _Ah Pete_, Nathan thought, clenching his hand by his side and eyes starting to well, _I'll find you, kiddo. I swear to God I will find you_.

* * *

Angela Petrelli had chosen to fly with a commercial airline which had surprised her son. The family jet was always ready for use, admittedly, primarily for his own business flights but his mother much preferred to use it when she could. But today, she had chosen to fly with others, First Class of course, but nonetheless, in the company of strangers. Perhaps she welcomed the distraction, the hustle and bustle of people around her. Nathan's own thoughts had been dragging him down to a level that he didn't feel able to climb out from. Despair was a cruelty, matched only by hope. Despair crushed his soul, but hope – hope that this was all a dream, that there was a rational explanation for all of this, that a miracle could occur and Peter would just wander back to their hotel room when he was good and ready- this was choking the life out of him.

Nathan hadn't spoken to his mother; he'd left that to his wife as he had been occupied with scouring the island for any sign of his brother. He had refused the offer to accompany the coastguard on their boat. Finding Peter on dry land was one thing; seeing his body float was something else entirely and he didn't think Peter would blame him for his cowardice.

Now he raised his chin and looked directly at the small plane as the flight of steps was attached in place, fighting the glare of the sun. Angela was among the first to disembark, her aide close behind her. Looking at her now, Nathan sucked in a breath. His mother, prim and pressed in her pale, peach suit was…smaller; reduced; frail. She paused a moment on the first step and Nathan's keen eyes saw her grip the handrail tighter than necessary. For a second, he wondered if she would fall, his muscles tensing. But she did not. She seemed to take a breath, square her shoulders, remove a pair of large sunglasses from her jacket pocket and slip them on.

The mask helped, but the emptiness remained; it emanated out from her and struck a chord deep inside him. For the first time in as long as Nathan could recall, even when his father, her husband, had died, mother and son resonated to the same sound: grief, disbelief and the loss of the one member of their family who deserved to outlive the lot of them. Her gaze swept the landing strip and quickly fell upon her oldest son. With confident steps, Angela descended, the aide close behind her, carrying her bag.

Nathan took a few, token steps forward and as she approached him, he awkwardly embraced her. Her arms seemed stiff and unyielding. "Ma," he began.

"What's happening with the search, Nathan?" Her voice was sharp, like her suit, as he remembered it: business-like; perfunctory; irritatingly impersonal yet with the ability to _think_ and function. It was, he understood, what they all needed.

"Police have doubled their patrols; so have the coastguard. They're checking in with us at regular intervals but there's not much to tell yet. But trust me, everything's being done that can be done." As he spoke, Nathan ushered the small party towards the airport terminal where the crowds of people drew their private conversation to a natural, temporary, conclusion to begin again in the privacy of their hotel room.

The wooden-bladed fan whirred and clicked in swift, hypnotic rotations, framed by the room's elegant moulded ceiling rose. Heidi closed her eyes for a moment as the cool breeze wafted over her. It was barely eleven in the morning but already the heat seemed stifling despite the cooling ocean breeze that floated in from the open French doors. The current was still strong today, the waves choppy. Brave swimmers had taken a morning plunge, knowing the sea would still take some time to warm up. Did Peter feel the sun? She shook her head immediately, clearing it of those dangerous thoughts. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. She fought hard not to rub at their dry, scratchiness, knowing it would only make them sore and swollen. Paparazzi picked up on things like that.

Sleep had been elusive and the few moments she had caught had been riddled with darkness and a feeling of helplessness. Nathan, who had eventually succumbed to a fitful slumber in the chair by the room's telephone, had fared no better.

The young woman pulled open the fridge and extracted three bottles of fresh spring water. Rolling one of them briefly across her forehead, shuddering slightly as the condensation trickled down the side of her face, she placed the bottles in her lap and quietly moved to Nathan, touching his back to alert him to her presence. He had been leaning against the wall by the door, intermittently checking the signal strength on his phone and keeping his eyes trained on Angela. He smiled, gratefully, when he saw the water and accepted it with a small, "Thanks."

Heidi held up the third bottle, a question in her eyes. "Do you think I should disturb her?" she wondered, turning towards Nathan in case her voice should carry to the balcony. On arriving at the hotel, Angela had made Nathan walk her through the events leading up to Peter's disappearance, starting with their movements that day and culminating with Peter's desire to swim out to the rock. Though Nathan had been dreading the moment, he also revealed the argument he'd had with his younger brother, not too long before his disappearance.

The police had been interested by the fact despite Nathan's assurances that Peter hadn't been overly upset by it and that they had reached their own kind of peace over it. The argument still sat heavy in Nathan's gut. Even if it hadn't driven Peter away, it was one of the last meaningful conversations that they had shared. Angela had raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips when she heard about it, her son almost stammering his way through the confession, losing his habitual collected manner. The matriarch had then cast her gaze out to sea, out to the rock where Peter had swam to, where Nathan had _allowed_ him to swim to, where Peter had disappeared from.

As Nathan had stood next to his mother, sand spilling over the tops of his shoes and prickling the soles of his feet, he had seen it as she then saw it. Guilt stabbed once more at his heart. A mere four days ago, he and his mother had been arguing over who was best suited to care for Peter. It had been a pertinent issue then, hot and burning between them. Now, with the question almost null and void, the answer appeared all too obvious.

Nathan couldn't bear to look upon the scene any longer. Angela made him repeat it, however and her son could only oblige her. Given what he'd taken from her, it was, he considered, the very least he could do. Nathan didn't miss the glint in her eye or the way a tiny corner of her mouth drew imperceptibly upwards. Angela Petrelli was most certainly rocked and potentially devastated, but it was a moment of triumph that she couldn't help but savour.

Eventually however, feeling the beach where her son disappeared could no longer provide her with the connection she hoped to feel, Angela had allowed herself to be led inside to Nathan and Heidi's room. She had her own room, of course, but chose to stay with her family. They barely spoke, but they all stayed together. Peter's room, aside from being looked through by the police, was left untouched.

She now stood on the balcony, looking out across the sea. In the centre of the view, about a mile or so out to sea, stood a small island. A church tower could just be seen from the shoreline, stark white in the gleaming sun. The island seemed hunched over, larger at one end and petering down into a kind of tail at the other, almost like a fish. Small pedalo boats pottered around it. Could Peter have made it to the island, she wondered?

Angela jumped when she felt someone beside her. Looking down she tried to smile thinly as her daughter-in-law offered her the cooling water. She didn't feel like drinking but taking the water seemed like a calm, sensible thing to do and Angela wanted, _needed_ to be calm and sensible. She took the water, her gaze returning to the island shaped like a fish. "That doesn't seem too far," she said, indicating it with her head. "He could swim that far, or be carried…"

"They've searched the island," Heidi interjected, carefully, delicately. "Nathan's been all over it, too and they've searched the coves and caves…" She trailed off as she saw another light extinguish in the older woman's eyes. "But they'll keep looking," Heidi insisted, forcing a note of confidence into her voice. "There are lots of places he could be, I'm sure. His picture is everywhere. Someone will call us." A pang in her chest again: she itched to call the boys, to hear their shrill voices. What must a mother go through, she wondered.

Patting her arm awkwardly, feeling like an intruder on her grief and worry, Heidi began to move away when she suddenly felt Nathan stand behind her, joining them on the balcony. Silently, he reached an arm across his mother's shoulders. The older woman kept her gaze on the water, but reached up a hand to squeeze his fingers.

"You should eat," he insisted, gently. "We all should. It's not quite time for lunch yet but the restaurant downstairs is serving food already."

"Nathan." Heidi began to shake her head, as Angela mirrored her actions. "We shouldn't leave the room. Shouldn't we…"

"What?" Nathan demanded, softly yet firmly. "We're not doing any good being cooped up in here. They have my cell number and we'll make sure the hotel reception know where we are. The management will come find us if there's any news." He leaned in to his wife. "We all need to get out of here. This isn't healthy and it isn't helping Peter." He gave his mother's shoulder a squeeze.

"Come on, Ma. We can take a table on the veranda. Get some fresh air and some food. We need to keep our energy up and our perspectives fresh." Nathan didn't really feel the energy to argue so was immensely glad to see his mother slowly nod her head in acquiescence.

"Great. I'll grab the room key." His jacket was on the bed and Nathan dug around in the pockets for his key and wallet before double-checking he had his phone and then ushering the women out of the room.

* * *

Lunch was quiet and fairly subdued but at least they all managed a decent meal. Nathan had been right: the room's atmosphere was stifling and it was only when they were all seated around a clean, fresh table, surrounded by the beauty of the beach around them that they were able to release some of their tension. It didn't seem right somehow though, that so much beauty could still exist in the world if Peter wasn't in it.

"He's alive you know," Angela suddenly announced, spearing a cube of feta cheese with her fork. Nathan and Heidi just glanced down at their own salads, nodding. "A mother knows these things," Angela pressed on, a renewed surge of energy and resolve in her voice. "I would know if something had happened to him. Peter and I, we have a connection. We always have." She watched the slight twitch in Nathan's eye but continued on over it. "You'll see. He'll be fine. I'm sure there will be an outlandish explanation for his absence, but he'll be fine."

Heidi brought her glass to her lips to take a sip but halted it, just short. "Nathan," she voiced, tentatively. "I know you said it was unlikely, but you _are_ an important political figure…"

"In _New York_," Nathan pointed out, firmly. Angela regarded him curiously. Clearly this was not a conversation she had shared at any point. "Not here and even so, Peter's not that well-known a face. The police and I have already discussed this, Heidi and I promise you, it's extremely unlikely." His tone broached the end of the conversation but his wife could not be so easily swayed.

"I know that, but have you thought about someone closer to us? I mean…" She hesitated a moment, feeling Angela's eyes hold her captive. "What about Mr. Linderman? Peter's always had a bad feeling about…" Angela inhaled sharply and Nathan closed his eyes a moment, squaring his shoulders.

"_No_," he insisted, resolutely.

"But he's been involved in some pretty shady deals." Heidi pressed on quickly as she saw her husband open his mouth to override her. "I know we don't talk about it in this family but there's something off about the man's connections."

"_Sweetheart_," Nathan cut in, holding up a hand to placate her. "I swear to you, Linderman has nothing to do with this. He's been nothing but supportive of our family and he has nothing against Peter." He watched his mother pale and gave her a reassuring smile. "In fact," he continued, with a forced cheeriness, "I hadn't wanted to mention it as I know what kind of a reception his name usually gets, but I've already spoken to him about this."

"You have?" Heidi couldn't hide her surprise.

"Yes, and he was very concerned. _He_ called _me_, in fact. He heard about it – I guess it's reached the news out there and he's well connected. He's offered us all the support he can."

"Does he have people who can look for him?" Angela asked, leaning forwards. Nathan looked at her, a little curiously.

"I'm not sure what you think he could do on that front, Ma. Those aren't his types of connections, but he's got contacts, funding and influence. All of that helps."

For a moment, Angela seemed to check herself. "Of course," she agreed. "It all helps."

A whoop of excitement suddenly drew their attention. Out, over the sea, a parascender swooped and dived, caught up in the channels of wind that helped him glide along behind the speed boat he was tethered to. He soared, high into the air, laughing in exhilaration. Nathan watched the young man, his gut twisting and vision, for a second, blurring. Peter loved to fly.

His family, unaware of the connection, simply turned back to their meals. The conversation regarding Linderman was laid to rest and, as they ate, the day wore on and life continued to unfold around them.

* * *

When Nathan glanced down at his watch as he turned the lock in the hotel door (it was an old-fashioned key rather than a swipe-card), he noted in surprise that two hours had been spent having lunch. He hadn't intended on spending that long away from the room but the fresh air, the food and the sun had done their jobs leaving him renewed with a second wave of energy.

Holding the door open as his wife and mother passed in-front of him, Nathan silently strategized the next round of attack. He shut the door and turned the lock then moved to perch on the end of his bed. Pulling out his cell phone, Nathan double-checked the signal. It was still strong enough and no messages had come through. The room's answer-phone also showed no messages.

"I'm going to have a shower unless anyone needs the bathroom," Heidi announced. Angela shook her head and went back to the balcony as Heidi grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and disappeared into the tiled room. Nathan once again considered the time. He would have expected someone involved in the search to have checked in with him by now. They were usually very good about it. Well, Nathan considered, trying hard to maintain his newly discovered positive attitude, that didn't necessarily mean bad news. Being busy may well be a good sign.

So, the first part of the plan was to check in with their liaison officer. Get an update, try to allay his wife's and mother's fears for an hour longer. Then get out of the hotel, try the parts of the island where Peter may be. He'd mentioned visiting some ruins though Nathan knew, without doubt, that as absent-minded as his brother could be sometimes, he would never do this purposefully to his family. If he _could_ have contacted them, he would have. Of course, he may have left the island. Airports and ports were alerted to his situation. A distant part of Nathan's mind wandered to the murky area: to the man with the horned-rimmed glasses who tried to abduct him in Vegas. Perhaps Suresh would know something? Nathan scrolled to his contact information in his phone.

It was a side of Peter, a side of himself that Nathan was loath to explore but in this case, every lead should be exhausted. Nathan's thumb hovered over the professor's number. What time was it in New York, he wondered.

The shrill ringing of the room's phone suddenly cut through the muffled sounds of the room, sending Nathan's phone rocketing into the air. It landed on the floor beside him but all Nathan could do was freeze, staring at the ringing phone. There was _something_, something almost tangible about the sound, the ringing. It was like a bell; a bell tolling. It drew him and yet, momentarily terrified him. Phones didn't sound different each and every time they rang but Nathan would swear this one did: heavy and meaningful.

From the balcony, Angela had turned and re-entered the room. She too stared at the phone her mouth frozen in an unvoiced question. Seeing his mother share in his irrational yet instinctive fear, propelled Nathan into action. He dove for the phone and swept it up from its cradle, pressing it to his ear.

Angela stood before him next to the bed, hands clenched tightly across her chest, covering her heart. The only sound to be heard was the steadily streaming water of the shower. Nathan stood, frozen as he listened, his eyes distant and set, his jaw occasionally grinding. He swallowed and his mother held her breath, eyes fixed on her son's, unable to look away.

A man was speaking on the other end of the line, but she couldn't make out the words. The voice was low and spoke in short, urgent sentences. Nathan let him talk. Finally, he choked out one word.

"_Where_?"

Angela sank down heavily onto the mattress. It squeaked in protest. She might have cried out but she couldn't be sure.

Nathan mumbled a goodbye and hung up. For a second, he held the phone securely in its cradle. His face was impassive, a haunted look of disbelief spreading across it.

"Nathan?" Her voice cracked, its strength waned. Dear God, she thought. I'm not ready. This isn't how it ends.

"They've found him," her son breathed. "He's alive."

* * *

Well, that's it for now. Chapter 5 is underway. I'd appreciate hearing what you think – it does wonders to propel a story along, particularly when you're feeling a little unsure about it and the direction it's going in. I hope you enjoyed it


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